


Happy New Year

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“They’re back, Rose,” he says with a heaviness and solemnity that makes her feel breathless. “These last few days, I knew something was wrong, but it wasn’t until... I can sense them. Smell them. They’re here.”</i> The part-human Doctor senses the return of the Time Lords. Post End of Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year

The Doctor has barely spoken to her in days.

It's the annual Tyler New Year's party and they're both decked out in their formal wear—Rose is in a strappy black dress and heels and the Doctor is looking quite dashing in a tux. He's barely left her side all night, his hand resting warmly against the small of her back. He eagerly plucks nibbles off a tray every time they go by while deftly ducking a parade of Jackie’s friends who all seem eager to kiss him. Any moment now they would make up some rubbish story about an alien invasion and manage to leave before midnight.

They look like the perfect couple and they smile at all the right times and, inside, Rose is going a little mad.

It’s not that he’s been ignoring her—no, not quite that. He says “good morning” and asks her about her day and sometimes launches into a right bit of technobabble over dinner, but the whole thing is sort of... flat. Like he’s putting it on to keep her questions at bay.

She can see how restless he is in the sharp set of his shoulders. It feels like only half of him is still with her at this party. She wants to grab him and _shake_ him until he tells her what’s going on. Or throw her arms around his neck and tell him that it’s going to be okay. Most of all, though, she hates the dark look in his eyes—like something’s coming for him and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

It’s frightening, if she’s honest with herself, and sometimes she wants to yell that _he promised to spend his life with her_ and _how dare he still keep things like this from her_?

Of course, this is the Doctor, and he’s got centuries of secrets stashed away.

Rose represses a sigh as the Doctor grabs another handful of nibbles, shooting her a sheepish smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. He chews and swallows before leaning over to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to get some air.”

“Hiding from Beth and Judith, you mean?” she teases.

He barely smiles in response, squeezing her arm before striding out of her Mum’s party room. She turns to follow his retreating back through the crowd—his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze far away.

“Oh, Rose!” says a loud voice in her ear. It’s Mum’s friend Judith. She hands Rose a glass of champagne, knocking one back herself and looking unsteady on her feet. “Now where did that nice man of yours go? You don’t mind sharing him at midnight, do you? That’s a dear.”

Rose smiles thinly and tips back the glass of champagne. “Not at all,” she manages.

***

She tracks him down an hour later. He’s out on the back porch, arms braced over the railing, and gaze fixed on the garden. Rose slides the door shut behind her, shivering as a blast of cold winter air hits her bare arms.

The Doctor doesn’t seem to notice the cold. He doesn’t even acknowledge her presence.

Rose stumbles more than strides forward, a consequence of her heels and one too many glasses of champagne. Her head is dizzy and her throat is burning and she thinks about yelling at him, asking him if he ever stopped to consider what it did to _her_ when he got like this—if he had any idea of her sleepless nights.

“Judith and Beth are beginning to ask after you,” she finally settles on, sounding stroppy. Then she shivers and rubs her arms. “You’ll catch your death if you stay out here much longer.”

He doesn’t respond and Rose heaves a sigh. “Fine, then,” she whispers, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of her voice. “Happy New Year.”

She has her hand on the door to go back inside when the Doctor says, “Did I ever tell you why I ended the Time War?”

Rose freezes, hand stilling on the door. She takes a deep breath and then turns around to face him. “‘Cos of the Daleks, yeah? You had to end them. Them and the Time Lords both.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He leans over the railing, pulling at his hair with his fingertips before stilling. “It was easier that way.”

“How d’you mean?”

“They’re back, Rose,” he says with a heaviness and solemnity that makes her feel breathless. “These last few days, I knew something was wrong, but it wasn’t until... I can sense them. Smell them. They’re here.”

Rose takes a step back, head whipping around. “Here?” she repeats. ”You mean, at Mum’s New Year’s Party?”

There’s some amusement in his voice when he says, “No.” She has just enough time to feel silly before he continues, “They said that Gallifrey existed at the centre of time and space itself, the whole of the universe stretching out around it.”

“Oh,” Rose whispers, and it feels like the most inadequate thing she’s ever said in her life. How do you respond to your husband sharing that the race— _his_ race—he thought he killed is still alive? She imagines him tracking them down, following them to the centre of time and space itself. How could he stay away? How could he give up a chance to be with his people again?

 _What about me?_ she wants to cry out, feeling slightly panicky. She sees herself following after him forever, building dimension cannon after dimension cannon. What did that make her, then? How many times would the Doctor leave her behind before she finally got the message?

Finally, voice trembling she manages to croak out, “But that’s good, right?”

It sounds false even to her own ears. But then the Doctor turns around, face haggard and half hidden in darkness. “No,” he finally says, “it’s not.”

Her heart sinks and she wordlessly moves to his side. She has her arms around him a second later. He breathes into her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist.

“Whatever’s going on,” Rose says, “we’ll stop it, yeah? We always do.”

The Doctor doesn’t respond. He releases her and then steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away.

The word “defeated” springs to mind, but that’s not him, is it? That’s not the Doctor she knows. “Tell me what’s going on,” she presses. “Doctor?”

He bows his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thinks. Finally he straightens, gaze softening as it falls on her. “Yeah,” he says quietly. She musters up a hopeful smile and he returns it before reaching out to brush her arm with his fingertips. “You must be freezing.”

She shrugs. “Just a bit.”

He takes her hand. “Come on.”

She doesn’t budge. “So you’ve got a plan?”

He stops and then turns around, almost looking apologetic. “Rose,” he says, “Trapped here in this universe—there’s nothing I can do.”

She holds his gaze, her heart pounding in her ears. She almost regrets drinking all that champagne now. Her head is too fuzzy, her legs too shaky.

“Trapped?” she repeats.

“I didn’t mean like that—” he sounds frustrated. “Look, can we just go home? Please?”

“Yeah,” she says tightly. “Yeah.”

***

They leave without saying goodbye. The taxi ride is in complete silence, but as soon as the door to their flat shuts behind them, the Doctor is peeling off her dress, his fingers and hands sliding down her sides.

His mouth presses against hers, hot and demanding like he’s begging. She kisses him back, arms winding around his neck before nimbly undoing his tie and jacket buttons.

Her dress pools at her feet in the living room and his clothes come off as they make their way through the flat before finally ending up in the bedroom.

Despite his nervous energy, his touches are soft and gentle as they fall into bed together. Rose feels guilty for thinking even for a moment that he might abandon her. Old habits die hard, she reflects as his lips trail down her throat.

She’s not sure she’ll ever stop wondering if a part of him feels like he was handed the runner-up prize—the human life instead of the stars. He’s stuck here, with her, instead of out there fighting for (against?) his own race. It’d be enough to make anyone resentful—no matter how much he might love her.

“Sorry,” she whispers against his lips, “Doctor, I’m sorry.”

He pulls back and stares at her, quiet except for the wheels she can see turning in his brain. “Don’t be,” he finally says. “I wouldn’t change this.”

“Any of it?”

He smiles faintly and she knows that he’s thinking about the TARDIS. “ _Well_.”

She nods and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, silently reassuring him that she’s not going anywhere. His hands find hers and he tilts his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s long and deep.

***

He shakes her awake in the middle of the night, lips pressing against her temple as he whispers, “Rose, Rose, please wake up.”

Her eyes slowly flutter open and she finds herself lying with her back spooned against his chest, his fingers combing through her hair. They’re both still naked and she rolls over, blinking at him through bleary eyes. “What is it?”

“They’re gone,” he murmurs. His lips press kisses to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, before he simply rests against hers, breathing in and out. “I don’t know how or why, but they’re gone.”

“Again,” Rose whispers, wondering how this could possibly be a victory.

“As it should be,” he says confidently. “They got arrogant in the end, Rose. They thought they could control their lives and deaths—and roll straight over anyone who got in the way. It didn’t matter who suffered as long as they survived.” His voice quiets before he adds, “That’s why I had to end them.”

She feels a chill go down her spine, but then she wraps her arms around him, letting him rest against her. She has no clue what to say, but he seems to relax in her embrace.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he finally says.

“I wish you had,” she whispers. Sometimes it seems like the more she learns about the Doctor, the less she really knows him. “I thought you... I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again. Then he scrubs at his eyes. “I could scarcely believe it myself. I mean... blimey, the Time Lords. They were the universe’s most powerful race on the brink of destruction, and nothing would get in their way. I had no idea where to even _begin_.” He shifts over, meeting her eyes. “Someone else must have stopped them.”

Rose knows with completely certainty that “someone else” is the other Doctor out there. “Reckoned as much.” She pauses. “D’you think he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he says with so much finality that Rose might have believed him if she didn’t know him so well.

She leans into him again, face pressing against his shoulder. She closes her eyes, swallowing down the tears. After all these years, a part of her still wants to yell and rage at him for what he did to her on that beach. She loves her Doctor, but that doesn’t mean a part of her doesn’t still think about a man in another universe. It just... it feels wrong that somewhere out there is a Doctor who she can’t ever see again.

And the only thing she can do is hope that wherever he is, he didn’t face down the Time Lords on his own. She thinks about what it was like, finding him at the end of the universe—surrounded by Jack and Donna and Martha and Sarah Jane. He has a knack for inspiring loyalty, the Doctor. It’s not a lot, but it’s all she has.

She raises her head, eyes travelling over his chin and nose before meeting his eyes. She doesn’t know what it is about conversations like this that can still make her feel more wrung out than chasing a fire breathing Joonan Dragon through half of London. She reckons it might have something to do with how absurdly and stupidly in love with him she is.

“What about you?” she whispers “Can you still feel them?”

“No,” he says and she can’t figure out if it’s with sadness or relief, “everything's gone quiet.” 


End file.
